Fabulous
by VintageManniqueen
Summary: Pam-centric drabbles and one-shots. Slight toss up between True Blood-verse and books, but more books than show.
1. Chapter 1

Best accompanied by Lady Gaga's "Fashion"

I own nothing.

* * *

She reaches out and pulls to herself the beautiful creations dangled before her. Pam loves beautiful things.

_Shoes, women…. _They're her favorites.

It's all the same to Pam. Everything is within her reach. After all, she's fucking gorgeous. She shrugs it off casually and it rolls easily off the sleeves of her pink cashmere cardigan. It's just a fact of her existence.

…Shoes and humans also go hand-in-hand for Pam.

_She loves being a vampire._

She can have any woman she wants. The slender brunette strutting down the street; the curvaceous blonde with the bright red lipstick who's _trying_ to attract a vampire's attention… They're all at her fingertips.

_Literally_.

But her favorite part about being a vampire?

A well-fed vamp in stunning Manolo Blahniks never has to worry about blisters.

"_Oh, __**her**__ shoes are_ _**beautiful."**_


	2. Pierced

AN: This really isn't very good, or long for that matter. It's really just a writer's block exercise.

Pam is still a little soft, don't you think? She wouldn't let _you_ know. But she is. And a girl with pretty eyes can melt her.

Not mine.

V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V 

_Click_.

A very tiny, yet distinct sound- fangs sliding precisely into place. The soundtrack of good sex.

_A whimper._

Fear? Pain? Yearning? It's all an incredible crash of fright, lust, and ecstasy. But the girl, the vampire's willing prey, places blind, "breather" trust in her lovely predator.

_You shouldn't_, said the Lady of the dark fairytale.

But her damsel in distress knows.

She forces her intense eyes to open and lock with the lust-hazed gaze of her fanged lover just before the points slip soundly into the creamy skin of her inner thigh.

Those _incredible_ _eyes_ unknowingly see something that only Pam knows they see.

The nearly glamoured vampire had never felt so _pierced_.


	3. Repeated History

A litte more book-verse. Sometime during the early 1900's.

* * *

A little more than drunk and a little less than caringly, a twenty-something and an 18-or-so couple picked their way through a wooded hillside.

From a distance, sharp blue eyes coolly took in their laughing forms.

_An odd twinge of longing… masked entirely by longing of another sort._

The not-quite man and his young not-quite lady came to a stop behind the safety of the largest tree to greet them thus far. Busy with each other- buttons, laces, cufflinks, the sort- they failed to notice the faint rustling of the leaves at their side, or for that matter, the appearance of an ethereal-looking blonde girl in the near-by shadows.

She watched for a moment- longer than a moment- as his hands gently ran the length of the girl's body, pulling with them the hem of her skirt as they completed their return north to her hips. _How trustingly she looks at him._

_ She'd seen it all before. Once upon a time._

As the fly of his pants came undone, and her eyes slipped closed as she leaned fully into the embrace of the tree, the girl stepped from the shadows.

"Save a kiss for me," she half-spoke, half-hissed, fangs exposed and at the ready.

The drunk young man lifted his to fingers to the protruding points in curiosity-

He found himself thrown into the trunk of another tree.

"Darling, these are bigger than your dick is."

* * *

She enjoyed her fill from a boy who looked like a boy she once knew. It was somehow oddly satisfying.

She sent the poor girl home with a kiss to the temple and a glamoured alibi, and no _connaissance _of her lover. She offered no explanation of any kind and left her at her doorstep with a lovely memory of an imaginary evening and a strange, but beautiful young woman with incredible taste in eveningwear.

The girl never wore a summer dress in the autumn again.


	4. It's All About the Shoes

When I should be paying attention in my Intro the Theater class, what am I doing? Writing Pam drabbles.

* * *

Something in the air is _unsettling. _Moreso than Pam can handle.

She pulls the soft, angora sweater tighter across her chest, eyes darting in a frightened, un-vampire-like manner. She's torn in her fright: whether she wants Eric to feel her terror through the bond or not.

_Shame or uncertainty? _

At the moment, she needs to weigh which fear is greater- her current situation, or the torment of her master.

But what has she to fear anyway?

She runs her cold, manicured fingers through her tousled hair from the front to the back in a masculine way. How nice it is, she thinks briefly, to no longer flatten her teased locks with the finger's oils.

She tosses said white-gold mane and squares her shoulders confidently, stands at full height, and prepares to continue on along the narrow path.

_The smell of animal is overwhelming. _

Ruined pumps and all, she's still a fierce bitch.

Or so she'd like the beast to think.

She glances at the destroyed decorations on her feet.

Eric had best be replacing those pumps.


	5. Tousled Tresses

Perfection.

Not a smudge, not a stain, not a wrinkle nor a line.

Pamela Ravenscroft, eternally young, externally beautiful; It should be on her fucking business card.

Having the power of instantaneous healing and the fountain of youth cannot, however, protect her from the oh-so-human phenomena of the Bad Hair Day.

In a moment of extreme laziness, Pam found herself crawling back into bed after her shower, nothing on her mind but the self-promise to get up and dry her flaxen locks in _no longer than ten minutes._ 40 or so minutes later, Pam found herself rolling out of her plush bed languidly. A quick run of a delicate hand through her blonde mane broke the peace.

Shit. _Shitshitshitshitshit._

Maybe if she curled instead of straightened….

There was not a product nor over-heated device that could make something acceptable of Pam's disastrous mane.

Maybe this was an excuse to finally wear one of those hats she's been impulsively purchasing for years. But would Eric tease her more for the hat or the hair?...

A glance to the clock did nothing to send any qualms of conscience through her as she decided to simply start the process over again, from shower through blow-dry. Eric could kiss her ass. Her youthful, stylishly-covered ass.

An hour after the club opened, Pam strutted across the floor from the office (as she'd come in through the back entrance) to Eric's ridiculous throne.

"You rang?" She purred.

Eric's eyes, two narrow slits, zeroed in on his child. "Where the _hell_ have you been?" He hissed.

Pam smirked. "Save it. And don't ask." She smiled devilishly. "Just admire my beauty," she said, running her fingers through her hair in self-admiration.

Eric rolled his eyes and followed her retreating form with his eyes and voice, "You can't come in whenever you feel like it because of your hair!"


	6. Bass Heartbeats

Glitter-kissed, lithe arms, outstretched above her head, trailed down to her torso, and to her mesmerizing hips moving freely and rhythmically with the blaring music enveloping her restless form.

The lights

The heartbeats

The aroma of arousal

_The glitter…_

It is how Pam loses herself, lets it go- her last link with humanity (that she willingly lets herself realize). It is her escape, her freedom… Her way of feeling _alive _without an inhalation.

The 70's had made Pam long for the feeling of euphoria one gained from club drugs. She would feed from the wild twenty-something girls, taking the high from their sweet, pumping blood into her own.

It never lasted quite long enough.

But the glitz and the lights and the beat she could feel _in her chest like a heartbeat _gave her that high.

When Eric had called to her with the proposition of his new business venture, Pam, ever unenthused, tingled. How could she say no? Nightclubs were her thing.

Her maker watched her fluid movements with fond and bright eyes from his precocious perch across the dance floor. His child's euphoria screamed through the bond and made him smile to himself.

Her hypnotic movements lost their rhythm for a brief moment as her gaze met his from across the floor. She gave him a small smile and in that second, time did not stand still, but rewound and rebounded in a swift sequence in the eyes of her proud maker. He had chosen well.


	7. Divine Secrets of an OffBeat Friendship

**Just some BS I came up with when I should have been taking notes in class. You know. **

**Not mine. **

A delicate, tanned hand reached blindly for the source of the obnoxious, on-going nuisance of "Barbie Girl" tinkling from the nightstand.

"Hello? Pam, it's three-"

"Who the hell writes the shit on the back of Herbal Essences?"

Sookie swiped her forearm over her sleepy eyes and moaned lightly. "Pam, it's three in the morning. I worked a double shift and- Wait, why are you using Herbal Essences?"

"These are the _shittiest _alleged style tips anyone could possibly write- Is this why mainstream middle class women are so unattractive?" She rolled the newly achieved epiphany around in her head for a moment.

"I should take offense to that," Sookie half mumbled as sleep threatened to take her again.

Pam grinned against the receiver. "Not you, baby. You've got me around to keep you beautiful."

Sookie could _hear_ her smile and groggily snorted and smiled to herself. "Yeah, yeah I do. Thanks. Now if you want me to stay young and beautiful-looking, let me go back to sleep."

Pam sighed in pseudo annoyance. "I definitely do _not _want you to get wrinkly any sooner than you have to." Sigh. "So please, do get some rest. I need _something_ pleasant to look at."

"G'night, Pammy," Sookie muttered.

Pam rolled her eyes but continued to smile. "You're my favorite breather," she sing-songed and hung up.

_But really, who comes up with this shit? _

She deposited the bottle into the trash as she sauntered to the couch to watch some sure-to-be god-awful movie Sookie suggested (or, basically demanded) she watch.

Two hours later, Pam silently cursed Sookie, the ghost of a smile on her face yet again. But she had no intention of telling her that she had actually enjoyed _Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood._


End file.
